Here goes. Last weekend I spied something at the pawn shop that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled.) I bought something really cool for my wife. The occasion was our 22nd anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sixed Tazer gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it it a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are suppose to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adeqate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing out- way too cool! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the dam thing and pushed the button..... Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin' directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arc between the prongs. How disappointing !! I do love a little fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did so! Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arc of electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yipeeee... I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to my wife whatt he burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, etc. etc. There I sat in my recliner, my dog looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not the dog) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping the dog for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet pup, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger. I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time. So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, tazer in the other. The directions said that: A one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; A two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; A three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water... All the while I'm looking at this LITTLE device (measuring about 5 inches long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really and loaded with two itsy bitsy AAA batteries) thinking to myself, "no friggin' way!" Friggin' way -- trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. I was sitting there alone, the dog looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it buddy," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.. (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?) I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight - always 20/20. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. (Don't ya hate that?) I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY ****** !!!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. The dog was standing over me making sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again, do it again!" NOTE: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a tazer, one note of caution.... There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself! You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by violent thrashing about on the floor. Then if you're lucky, you won't jam one of the prongs 1/2 inch deep in your thigh like yours truly. SON-OF-A-BISQUIT- EATER that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there?? My triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching... and I swear I smelled burning flesh and hair.. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure. By the way has anyone seen my testicles? I think they rolled away. I'm offering a reward. They're round rather large. Miss'em.... sure would like to get'em back. It's good to know that the wife will be safe from stupid assailants..... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Not an issue for me because we have had separate bedrooms for the last 20 years - love it (my parents always did too). He snores and goes to bed at 9, I go to bed at 11ish and read a book or dec mag till 2 or 3. He likes the room cold and I like it slightly toasty, well, you get the picture." This made me laugh--and I resemble that remark! My poor husband slept on my left for years, until our kids got to be teenagers. In all that time neither of us slept all that well; as with Lynne he is on farmer time, going to bed by 9 and up by 5:30 am while I go to bed later and wake up later. We are comfortable at different temperatures. I need ABSOLUTE quiet to get to sleep so even his breathing kept me up. He goes to sleep easily but any little noise-like my breathing-woke him. And so on. The last straw was the kids turning into vampires as they became teens. They not only stay up till all hours, they are up and down the hall, on their phones, using their computers and tvs...and in our ranch house the bedrooms are separated by literally a couple of feet. A year or so ago he decamped to the day bed in our florida room which is at the farthest and most quiet end of the house. It has been bliss for all. He goes to sleep early, the kids do their thing and I've been able to discover the joy of reading in bed in the evening. We both sleep so much better and at the risk of TMI...now that our kids are old enough and independent enough to be out most weekend evenings, our private life together is better than ever :). Ahem. A long winded answer and a detour but truly, living like royalty with separate bedchambers has been nothing but good in our house! Ann

When men have a mid-life crisis ... ... do they call it "womenopause"? o j

My most embarrassing cell phone incident was when I was pregnant a few years ago. I was in the bathroom at work and one of the secretaries decided to make a private call on her phone. She found out her sil had cancer during that call. I couldn't help, but hear the details. I felt awkward.